Severing Ties
by Jadea
Summary: What happened to you? How...how could you call Dad a failure?" Ron writes Percy a letter. Spoilers for Book Five.


  
  


Author: Jadea   
  


Rating: Pg-13   
  


Disclaimer: The HP characters are not mine. Besides...suing me would be the height of futility.   
  


Summary: Ron's got a few things to say to Percy, but Percy won't talk to him. Ron can only tell him in a letter. Spoilers for Books Five.   
  
  
  
  
  


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You BASTARD!   
  


You swotty, stuck-up, four eyed, boot-licking TRAITOR!   
  


Mum is crying right now, did you know that? I can hear her up in my room, and Dad is still stomping around the house. Yeah, like you care. You don't care about anything any more, do you, Perce?   
  


Oh, wait. I forgot. You *do* care about something.   
  


Yourself.   
  


You son of a--   
  


No. I'm not going to insult Mum like that. *Mum* is wonderful, even if she does forget that I don't like cornbeef sandwiches and that I hate maroon. Mum doesn't have her head stuck up her--   
  


He's back, Percy. I know it. I know it, I feel it, and you feel it to, and you're scared. You think I'm not scared? I'm...terrified. My best friend in the entire world is Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. He almost died. I saw him, in the hospital wing, after it happened; he looked...he just...I mean...   
  


Damn. Just...never mind. I'm not going to talk to you about Harry. You wouldn't understand. You'd have to have actually *had* friends to understand where I'm coming from, and that's something you've never really had, was it, Perce? Hell, when we were growing up, the closest thing you ever had to a best friend was me--   
  


Hell. Why am I even *telling* you this? You don't care. You'd probably just laugh, or wad this note up and chuck it in the trash without even bothering to read it. It's not *ministry* business, so it doesn't matter. Why should you care what your "immature and easily emotional" stupid little baby brother feels? Why should you care that I keep having nightmares where awful, horrible things are happening to the people I love and there's nothing I can do; why should you care that Mum hasn't smiled since you left--   
  


MUM IS CRYING, AND YOU DON'T CARE! GINNY IS CRYING, AND YOU DON'T CARE!   
  


Yourself. That's all that matters to you, now. Your career at the Ministry. Your future kissing Fudge's arse. Guess you had to switch to Fudge after Crouch turned out to be the biggest damned hypocrite in the wizarding world.   
  


You should have been a Slytherin.   
  


How could you say that stuff to Dad? How--I mean--when you--why, how-- 

HOW COULD YOU CALL DAD A FAILURE?   
  


He's not a failure, you syncophant. He's got more guts then you'll *ever* have. He's doing what's *right*, instead of what's *easy*.   
  


You hurt him. And I don't know if I'll ever forgive you for that.   
  


We don't fight. Not like this. Bloody noses and dogpiles and ice-cream fights and tricks--hell, that's nothing. But the things you said...   
  


I hope wherever you're staying in London has roaches and termites and silverfish and moths and a thousand other infestations. I hope it costs so much you can't afford any food and have to beg food off Penelope to eat. I hope Penelope dumps you. I hope you get so hungry you have no choice but to come home again--   
  


NO! No, I don't. I don't care if you eat AT ALL. As a matter of fact, I hope you starve. Calling Harry 'deranged', Mum gullible, Dad an embarrassment--   
  


So what does that make me, Perce?   
  


Your stupid, younger, clumsy sidekick-to-the-deranged little brother? What does that make me?   
  


I'll tell you what it makes me, you gigantic git.   
  


Mad as hell.   
  


You know what? I may be "associating with dangerous people" and "continuously flaunting Ministry authority," but I'm taller than you, now. Yeah, just before you left, when you were yelling at Dad, right around the time you called Harry deranged...it's weird, how you notice those things. I'm taller than you, now.   
  


I wish I had hit you.   
  


I should have hit you--kicked you--tackled you. I could, you know. You were never good in a fight, not really; I've been able to take you since I was 12.   
  


Let's see you accuse Dad of endangering your career when I've got you pinned on the filthy kitchen floor. Couldn't have left then, could you? You think I like living in this place? I hate it. I miss my room, I miss our kitchen, I even miss those masochistic gnomes that always sneak back into our gardens.   
  


But I won't miss you.   
  


Why would I?   
  


What have you ever done that would make me miss you?   
  


Yeah, I'll miss you. Miss the way you roll your eyes when you think I'm not looking whenever I talk about my grades. Miss the way you get that smug little smirk on your mug when ever I mention Hermione's parents...feeling superior, are we? Taking lessons from Barty Jr. as well as the elder Mr. Crouch? Miss the way you mutter under your breath whenever I mention Harry's name? Miss the way you used to play chess with me--   
  


Screw that. Screw that a thousand times, and screw you.   
  


I don't need you, I don't want you, and I won't miss you.   
  


YOU HEAR ME? I WON'T MISS YOU!   
  


AND IF I NEVER, EVER SEE YOU AGAIN, I WON'T CARE! YOU HEAR ME? I WONT BLOODY CARE!   
  


*You* don't care. Why should I?   
  


You don't care about Mum or Dad, or Ginny, or any of us. Your bloody career at the Ministry is more important to you then we are. Guess there's no room for family flaws when you're gunning to be the Minister of Magic someday, eh, Perce?   
  


What...I just, I don't understand...   
  


What happened to you?   
  


I mean, you were always weird. You always wanted to read; you pinned your Prefect badge to your pajamas and polished your glasses and took points from me, but...that was just...you. You the way Fred and George pulled Ginny's hair and turned my teddy bear into a great big spider and set their bedroom on fire three times. You were always weird, but...   
  


I remember...first year, I think. After the chess game...I woke up in the hospital wing; my head felt like Fred and George had been using it for Beater practice...and you were there.   
  


Pompous and nervous and annoying as hell, yeah, but you were *there*. You kept scolding me; telling me I was foolish and impulsive, that I could have gotten seriously hurt--ooh, big newsflash there--but you stayed with me, checking the bruise on my temple, until Hermione came. Your eyes were red, and you told me you hadn't gotten enough sleep, but your collar was still damp. And when you left the hospital wing, I think that was the last time you hugged me...   
  


I just...I dont know...   
  


I thought you liked Harry. I really, really did. Sometimes I thought you liked him better than me. I mean, I thought you cared about him. Enough to believe him; enough to know he was telling the truth. He...he was just so...hurt...after the Third Task...   
  


But Harry...Harry went through hell...and you didn't care.   
  


Why? Is it just because Harry doesn't have red hair and freckles? Because his last name isn't Weasley? Because he's not your biological brother?   
  


Or would that matter?   
  


If I went through hell, this year...   
  


If something awful happened to me...   
  


Would you care?   
  


Merlin only knows how many times I've *almost* died in the last few years...well hell, Perce, you were there. You pulled me out of the lake in February, remember? Then you gave Harry full marks for the Second Task. That was six months ago. And now you're yelling that Harry is a few hippogriffs short of a herd.   
  


I don't think I've ever hated you as much as I do now. 

How could you say that about Harry? Crouch, Fudge, Malfoy, all those other idiotic swots and pretentious ministry officials with their heads up their arses--they don't *know* Harry. Oh, sure, Fudge likes to chum him up, but its all a show. Fudge knows Harry about as well as I know Nicholas Flamel.   
  


Or as well as I know you, evidently.   
  


Damnit. I am not going to do this. You are not going to make me do this.   
  


Stupid letters. They're all blurring together...Merlin, I can't even read my own writing   
  


....   
  


I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.   
  


My eyes won't stop stinging.   
  


...   
  
  
  
  
  


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Of all the Weasley sibling relationships, I find the one between Ron and Percy the most interesting. And the most volaitle. I don't believe Percy is evil...but he is confused, and he is hurting his family. And his brother. I don't know how well I typed Ron in this, but I intend to do a follow up; Ron's response to Percy's letter reccomending that he 'sever ties' with Harry...one of Ron's finer moment in OoTP, in my oh-so-humble opinion. Some feedback would probably help me gain a little perspective for that chapter (hint hint)...   
  



End file.
